


It Was A Galactic Emergency

by gold_pen_leaps



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Cannibalistic Thoughts, Comedy, First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Meet-Ugly, No Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Timeline What Timeline, everyone ships symbrock, symbrock is canon and I won't be convinced otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 06:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19167565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gold_pen_leaps/pseuds/gold_pen_leaps
Summary: Eddie rolled his eyes. “Whatever. We’ll investigate a conspiracy, if that makes you happy. I just want my bike back.”





	It Was A Galactic Emergency

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kingstoken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingstoken/gifts).



> Special thanks to luthienberen on Dreamwidth for betaing!

There was a restaurant in San Francisco that sold seafood for suspiciously cheap, although the term “restaurant” could be used flatteringly. A lattice gate closed over the wide windows when the place was closed, and it was closed for most of the week. There often were other customers inside the restaurant, waiting for their takeout, but perhaps it was not busy enough to justify selling the freshest seafood at the lowest price (probably the lowest price in San Francisco) for every day. There was absolutely no place to sit, except for a tiny two-person table with rickety chairs, and often, there was someone sitting at it. It was probably also in violation of several health codes, judging by the state of the floor and the counter where you placed your order to a stern-faced man. The man (Eddie hadn’t gathered the courage to ask his name) spoke in terse sentences and would only tell your order to the kitchen if you paid up front.

 

It had quickly become Eddie Brock and his other’s new date night restaurant.

 

He rolled to a halt at the ten minute parking zone, pressed the off button to shut off the motor, and went inside. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, and when he opened the door, a breeze ruffled his hair and carried a familiar scent to his sharp nose.

 

Eddie hadn’t been a sashimi fanatic before, but now it was the most decadent flavor ever, topped only by… well, maybe it wasn’t him that was the fanatic, per say, but it was one of the less exotic foods he could get on the regular and still be satisfied by.

 

Eddie told the usual order –three sashimi platters and one yaki udon bowl – to the stern-faced man and leaned against the counter, facing the windows, while the food was being prepared. He held a silent conversation with his symbiote.

 

_ Do you think we should investigate this place for- _

 

**No!**

 

_ No? I thought you said that guy looked tasty. _

 

**Ages ago.**

 

_ So all a bad person has to do is bribe you with food? _

 

**Quit laughing. Hypocrite.**

 

_ I guess it is pretty good food. But we should at least check that their only crime is the state of this floor. _

 

There was a slow silence then, and Eddie let them think. The rich scent of peanut oil flowed over the scent of the salt and iron of the seafood. The noodles in the pan would soon be sweeter and nuttier as heat transformed them. He could hear sizzling, the chop of a knife, and the brisk tones of the chef speaking. The men in the kitchen had their own scent too, mostly sweat and artificial lemon from the hand soap. Peanuts, salt, blood, wheat, sweat, and citrus: it would have frightened him, once, to know that everything about that mixture was mouthwatering, except, perhaps, the lemon.

 

**Yes,** Venom said finally.  **Maybe someone else could take over if it’s run by someone bad.**

 

One platter of sashimi arrived at the counter; the rest was still being prepared. And then, out the window Eddie saw a man run across the street and hop onto Eddie’s motorcycle.

 

He stood up straight and gripped his keys in his jacket pocket.

 

The engine growled. “HEY!” The bell at the door jangled. He rushed towards the man. The thief met Eddie’s eyes.

 

“Sorry!” he yelled, and also (Eddie would later parse) “Galactic emergency!” He pushed an earphone at his ear, a helmet with two red steampunk-ish goggles enveloped his face, and he drove off.

 

“Vee?”

 

**Wait.**

 

“What?! We’ve gotta go.”

 

**Eat some food first.**

 

“Damn it!” The thing was, they were right. He rushed back inside, took the platter, rushed out, and headed for the nearest alley.

 

* * *

  
  


Eddie was more visual and the symbiote was more olfactory. They remembered the features of the thief and his scent and the scent of the clothing he wore. He’d been wearing a red leather jacket. He had stubble and mussed dark blond hair. He had smelled slightly odd. Not bad, just… different, in a way that was frustrating to try to place. But luckily, it was a unique scent, one that was easy to track.

 

_ So, how the hell has he disappeared in that building? _

 

**There is another way out that we don’t know about.**

 

There was way too much security for Eddie to feel safe about going in immediately, but it didn’t look like an apartment or hotel. After an invigorating chase through the streets of San Francisco, they thought they had finally caught up to him when the thief disappeared into a large windowless building. They’d been certain he would come out after several hours, but he hadn’t, and Venom was starting to get restless and hungry.

 

_ Let’s go home, _ Eddie said.

 

**Giving up?**

 

_ No, _ he said stubbornly,  _ we’re getting that bike back, even if I have to use up my sick days to find it. _

 

* * *

  
  


The building was owned by the billionaire turned superhero Tony Stark. It was a warehouse, supposedly.

 

Eddie leaned back in his seat and stared at the withered plant next to his desk. “Why would anyone who knows Tony Stark need to steal a motorcycle?”

 

**Wants to make Stark look bad.**

 

“You think Stark doesn’t know about his presence there? The building had such high security. It probably has cameras. And the thief just drove in.” Eddie paused, eyes narrowing. “I bet there’s something really important in that warehouse, something Mr. Stark doesn’t want people to know about.”

 

**Tony Stark hires thieves.**

 

“Uhh, no, darling. I wouldn’t go that far.”

 

**Hires thieves. Do the dirty work he cannot do.**

 

He cocked his head. “Huh,” he murmured, “He  _ is _ in the public eye all the time.”

 

**Dealt in weaponry, once.**

 

“Mm.”

 

**The thief has villainous side burns and smells funny.**

 

Eddie snorted. “What?  _ I _ have a hint of...” He touched the space next to his ear.

 

**Not the same.**

 

“Haha! You can’t be serious.”

 

The symbiote swirled around ominously, making sure Eddie felt it via his own nerves. Venom was blocking some amount of thought sharing, petulantly. Eddie rolled his eyes. “Whatever. We’ll investigate a conspiracy, if that makes you happy. I just want my bike back.”

 

* * *

  
  


The bad news: Eddie Brock, investigative journalist, had been too stupid to wonder where Tony Stark was and what he was planning to do until two days before Stark was scheduled to be in San Francisco. It was super suspicious timing, and he didn’t have the luxury of looking into it further, not without neglecting his actual job, anyway. Something about a science conference?

 

The good news: he had (they had) figured out a plan for getting into the frustratingly well-monitored building the thief had disappeared into.

Slightly bad news: They couldn’t be sure whether the thief would still be inside the building.

 

“Let’s focus on finding the thief, then on getting our bike, then investigating corrupt billionaires.”

 

The symbiote’s superior sense of smell would be able to track the thief down in the building or determine when he had lasted entered. Hopefully, there would be a trail leading out, if the thief had left.

 

The truck traveled between warehouses daily, and between this warehouse and their target weekly.

 

The symbiote weaved itself into the nooks and crannies of the undercarriage.

 

Footsteps. The door banged. Then, the truck rumbled unpleasantly. And continued rumbling.

 

Phase one, check.

 

Now they had to sit still. Concrete zoomed past them, mere inches away. Everything smelled and tasted like diesel. The symbiote went into some kind of trance, it seemed like, lulled by the hum of the engine. Eddie was content to let their thought processes merge.

 

Occasionally they stopped. They listened. Finally, they heard a garage door being opened, and that’s how they knew they were in the building.

 

Eddie should have expected that a warehouse that a billionaire owned would be well-lit. 

 

**Eddie?** There were no shadows to hide behind.

 

_ Stay. They might become distracted when they’re ready to unload. _

 

The truck’s engine turned off, and they slipped off to the other side of the truck when the driver came out.

 

There was a scent they recognized instantly. Strong enough to only come from 

someone who was nearby.

 

**Ambush the thief!**

 

_ Wait. Check our surroundings for cameras and such. _

 

“Mornin’ Mr. Stark,” the driver said.

 

They froze. Surely they had misheard.

 

**Stark has villainous chin growth also,** the symbiote whispered to Eddie, in awe.

 

_ What now? Maybe he doesn’t know about the thief? _

 

They hotly debated what to do next and checked for cameras, long enough that they heard the driver walk out of the building.

 

“Here we are! The final shipment,” Tony Stark said.

 

Eddie frowned.

 

“The Guardians don’t go back on our promises.”

 

“I am Groot.”

 

“That wasn’t a promise, so it doesn’t count.”

 

Stark laughed. Judging by the sound of his voice, he was closer to the truck, and perhaps just far enough away from the other voices...

 

They sprung. Tony Stark’s heart rate jumped, but they had him pinned before he could do anything.

 

“ **Don’t move,”** they growled at him.

 

To the others: **“Give us back our motorcycle, or the spoiled billionaire gets it.”**

 

“Who are you?!”

 

Stark didn’t deny the label, just hummed thoughtfully.

 

They were a weird bunch. A bush with eyes. A racoon wearing clothing. A woman with green skin. A large shirtless gray and red man with strange skin. The motorcycle thief was the most human-looking of them all; it occurred to Venom that there might be a good reason his scent had been so inhuman.

 

The green lady flung a couple of knives at them. Venom caught them in the air with their tendrils.

 

“That’s a klyntar,” she snarled, “We have to kill it with-” Venom flung out an arm. She was engulfed and pinned to the ground.

 

The thief and the raccoon took a step back, at that. The gray man looked down at her, then up at Venom, then back to her. Venom bared their teeth threateningly, in case he got any ideas.

 

“ **All we want is our bike,”** they said, once it looked like everyone wasn’t going to attack him (just yet),  **“A gorgeous, black Scrambler Ducati. You stole it while we were getting lunch. Sound familiar?”**

 

“It’s Quill’s fault!” said the… the _ talking _ raccoon!?

 

Everyone turned to look at Quill, who glared at the raccoon.

 

“What are you looking at me for? You thief!”

 

“You sold it, didn’t you,” said Quill.

 

“And what if I did, huh?”

 

“ **Sell?!”** They gathered more of their mass back, reducing their grip on the green lady, so that she only had her legs and arms pinned.

 

Tony Stark snorted. “How’d this bunch steal a motorcycle from you?” he muttered to Venom.

 

“I told you not to sell it!” Quill said.

 

“I am Groot,” said the bush thing.

 

“IT WAS A GALACTIC EMERGENCY!” he shouted, as if the bush had said something important.

 

“It’s always a galactic emergency,” the green lady said.

 

“Stealing is allowed in a galactic emergency,” said the buff gray dude.

 

“I’m hurt you didn’t ask me for a ride,” Tony Stark said drolly, “Also, stealing is against the law, no matter what.” He turned to Venom. “Listen, hot stuff. As fun as being held in your strong arms is, I don’t think this is an effective threat anymore.”

 

“ **Why should we trust you, thief-hirer?”**

 

Hearing this, the others paused their argument and looked at Stark.

 

Stark snorted. “You clearly don’t want to hurt any of us. Or you would have done so after the driver left. Also, you might’ve noticed the lack of cameras.”

 

_ Point,  _ Eddie thought.

 

Venom shrugged and let him go. “Stay there,” they said to the green lady. She shrugged. Quickly, they drew away from her. She stood up and brushed herself off.

 

“I brought plenty of champagne to celebrate the final shipment,” Stark added. “We might as well get comfortable while we talk it out.”

 

Venom and Quill stood around awkwardly while Stark bullied the others into setting out a small table and some chairs. They shared a glance of almost-understanding. Were all rich people this insane?

 

“You know who I am,” Tony Stark said with a shit-eating grin, once the drinks and chairs had been brought out. “That’s Peter Quill.”

 

“Starlord,” Quill said, pouting.

 

“Starlord,” Stark repeated, “And this is Gamora, Drax, Groot-”

 

“I am Groot.”

 

“-and Rocket.”

 

Rocket crossed his arms. “Why do you need a bike anyway? Strong, uh,” He looked Venom up and down. “-muscled goo person like you?”

 

“ **Sentimental reasons,”** they said tersely.

 

“What sentimental reasons? We needed it more, so we should get to do whatever we like with it.”

 

Gamora drank the champagne out of the flute like it was a shot.

 

“ **No, you didn’t. You could’ve called him.”** They gestured at Stark, who shrugged.

 

“At any time,” he agreed.

 

“Who’s side are you on?” Drax said.

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Rocket said, “Galactic emergencies trump sentimental reasons every time. Everyone knows that.”

 

Stark cocked his head. “I’d agree that it was an emergency. A mild one. What do you say I buy you a new one and deduct the cost from what I’m paying for for all this space junk?”

 

**“Space junk?”** They eyed the truck.

 

“Space junk,” he said, “And you can fact-check that all you want, Mr. Brock.”

 

They flinched.

 

Stark smirked. “Thought it was you.” He waved a hand. “Don’t worry. Honestly, we need people like you in places  _ other  _ than New York.”

 

Huh. That was almost… praise.

 

After a moment of debate, the symbiote flowed back into Eddie’s skin.

 

“A tiny man!” Drax exclaimed.

 

Eddie raised an eyebrow.  **Compared to him?** suggested the symbiote.

 

“That’s the bike we had when we met,” Eddie said, “This isn’t about the money. I wouldn't have bothered repairing it after it crashed the first time, unless it meant something.”

 

Stark frowned. “Wait. Met who?”

 

“Er, that’s a long story...”

 

Gamora had an odd look on her face. “You kept the host alive,” she said.

 

The symbiote manifested into a snake form and curled around Eddie’s neck like a warm scarf.  **“Yes.”**

 

Eddie finally poured himself some champagne, highly aware of everyone’s eyes on him, and sat down to tell his –  _ their _ – story.

 

* * *

  
  


“I shouldn’t have stolen it, man,” Quill said, once the story was told. “Sorry.”

 

“We have to get that bike back,” Rocket sobbed. “It's a symbol of a true, lasting  _ bond! _ ” He may have had one too many glasses.

 

“No, that’s okay,” Eddie said. “You’re right. I only kept it around for sentimental reasons.”

 

**“We are very fast.”**

 

“Also, I don’t think I want to get caught up in whatever you guys get up to.”


End file.
